


Hey Jude

by Nightsister



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Comics - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hawkeye: Blindspot, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Domestic Violence, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsister/pseuds/Nightsister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was only one woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jude

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I called this the "Untitled Clint-centric Prologue" - I scrapped it when I realized it wasn't going to flow with the rest of the story that I'm working on. (In my head. Yeah.) Just a little scene to Clint's backstory, with a huge nod to the Hawkeye: Blindspot comic. I figured I would put this here since it was just going to languish on my computer anyway. Now it can languish here! Huzzah!

The Bartons of Waverly, Iowa weren't church going folk. Edie tried for a while, when Clint was finally out of diapers and Barney was old enough to start Sunday school on his own, but Harry needed her to run the shop: Sundays meant Sunday dinners and Sunday dinners meant brisk sales after 11 o'clock, when the morning service let out. And if people noticed her bruised cheek or the way she always wore long sleeves even in the middle of summer, they were less likely to say anything when she was behind the long glass counter than if she were sitting right next to them, singing _A Mighty Fortress is Our God_.

Mrs. Crayne was a regular churchgoer, although she wasn't a proper Lutheran like everybody else in the neighborhood but attended the Catholic church across town. She was also a regular customer of Barton's Meats, getting her stew meat on Tuesdays, ground chuck for meatloaf on Friday (unless it was those weeks leading up to Easter, when she would go to the fishmonger instead), and a pork roast every other Sunday. And since she was a regular customer and had been one since Harry was a boy working for his father, she knew about Edie crying in the little office where she tallied up the day's receipts, and the way Barney had flinched that time Harry had leaned over to reach for the sausages, and the too many empty liquor bottles sitting in the alleyway out back.

But Mrs. Crayne was one woman, and was dealing with a no-good deadbeat husband herself. Her sons were getting ready to go off and make their own way into the world. She was only one woman.

So she did what anyone in her situation would do: she prayed. She prayed for the safety of little Clint and Barney; she prayed that Edie would find the strength to live every day with that brute of a husband. And if she also prayed for terrible things, like for deaths or for accidents, only God would judge her. Her conscience was clean.

One Tuesday afternoon in the butcher shop it was only Edie and Clint behind the counter, and Edie was looking weary and... strange. Her makeup, even carefully applied as it was, did not fully mask the redness around her right eye that was heading toward an honest to goodness shiner. And Mrs. Crayne, having gone to the early Mass that day, knew Divine Providence when she saw it. She slipped a hand into her coat pocket to retrieve the small medallion she had gotten as an impulse buy at the Catholic shop last month when she was really only looking for a gift to give to her niece on her Confirmation. Now was as good a time as any.

Clint, more wary and timid than a five year old should be, was perched on a stool behind the cash register. Edie, ringing up Mrs Crayne's purchases, smiled and immediately winced as the skin around her eyes tightened, aggravating the bruise. "Thank you, Mrs. Crayne," she said. "See you on Friday?"

"Yes, Mrs. Barton," Mrs. Crayne replied. She leaned in suddenly, glancing around quickly to make sure they were truly alone, and added, "My dear, this is terribly rude of me, I know, but-" She drew out the medallion and handed it to her. Clint, seeing something shiny, reached for it instead.

"Ooh. This is beautiful," he said, awed.

"Mrs. Crayne...?" Edie looked puzzled and frightened at the same time.

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Crayne's nerves fled. "It’s just a... a little good luck charm," she lied. "I thought Clint would like it. He won’t try to eat it, will he?"

"Oh no," Edie said, taking the medallion quite forcefully away from her son. He didn't even try to complain and merely gave his mother a wary look. She glanced down at it, small in the palm of her hand. "St. Jude," she read, tilting her head. "Oh, is- is it real gold? We couldn't possibly take this-"

"Well, it’s just gold plate," Mrs. Crayne said, her courage coming back. "Please, I'd like for you to have it. I picked it up at the Catholic store... I know you're not Catholics, but-"

Edie Barton needed a friend. She needed to be strong for her boys. She needed help, and she'd take it however she could - even if it was in the form of a curious gift, given to her by a customer who cared. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Thank you very much."

(Edie and Harry died in a car accident a week later. No one needed to say that Harry had been drunk. And no one knew where the sons were sent. Mrs. Crayne went to church, lit her candles, and wept openly through her prayers.)


End file.
